The light dimmed, the temperature dropped.
Anna had always found eclipses fascinating: the idea that it was night in the middle of the day was something totally amazing. She knew many people enjoyed them, studied them, stopped working to watch them.
But for her it was something she experienced physically. Always. She felt it in her bones. It wasn’t that they became cold or anything, but somehow they felt denser. She couldn’t really have explained it. She was more grounded. She enjoyed sitting in the garden, her bare feet firmly planted in the earth.
She loved how everything seemed to slow down: it wasn’t quite twilight and few nocturnal animals got tricked by the absence of the sun. Still the sounds surrounding the house dimmed along with the light: the cars weren’t as loud, the children refrained from screaming and even the dogs sat down no longer barking.
The temperature dropped, not significantly at first but then a welcome chill settled like a mantle on her shoulders. Sometimes her mother would tell her to wear a sweater to fight off the cold but she never did. The taste of the air was different too; not unlike the evening. But with that burst of life of the day.
The funny thing was that the temperature drop didn’t come with that slightly wet feeling you get before it rains. It remained dry in the open air, but the earth itself was a bit more humid, you could smell it and it enhanced the feeling of coolness that spread across her body.
Anna gazed up with her sightless eyes at the sky, as the darkness thickened; the wind caressed her face another touch of coolness. She loved eclipses: when everyone else only saw the event, she felt it with every senses.
In response – a bit late – to the Daily Post writing prompt Eclipse